Richard B Riddick: Convict, Murderer, Good Man
by fictionalcandie
Summary: He's been many things in his life, most of them unpleasant, and he's never regretted it. But he's also never before had this good a reason to reform...
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I don't own TCoR, and I'm making no money from this fanfic.

**Fic/Chapter Warnings:** Disregards TCoR, DF, and... basically all canon except most of PB, so _rather_ AU. Language. Some non-graphic violence in this chapter. If any of these things bother you, don't read.

**Author's Notes:** I've never written for this fandom before, but I adore Riddick, and Jack, and rather detest TCoR, despite the presence of Vaako, whom I also adore. So I decided to do the selective canon thing and write a little reality of my own. No real, y'know, noticeable _plot_ yet, or anything, but it's just for fun anyway, so it doesn't matter. (I repeat: this fic is written strictly for fun. It is not meant to be taken seriously. The characters are not, necessarily, meant to remain IC, if I happen decide that switching them OOC would serve my amusement better. I am writing it for **fun**.)

Do please review and tell me what you think!

**o.o.o.o**

_Prologue_

She'd been fifteen when he, a twenty-six year old convict desperate to outrun the mercs on his ass, had left her in New Mecca with that holy man. She'd managed to keep him there for a year, a whole year, and despite his promise to stay, that had been more time than she'd expected to get. She'd been desolate after that first departure, not even his promise to come back soon making her feel very much better.

But he had come back: once every year, he'd miss her so much that he'd dare the mercs finding his weakness, just so that he could see her. He never stayed long, only a few hours really, but there wasn't a year she didn't see him, even after she moved out of the holy man's house. He snuck in through her window under the cover of darkness and held her, his promises that someday he'd be free of all this and they could be together again, mingling with their heavy breath in the dark room.

Then one year he didn't come.

The next he came, but didn't wake her.

Then he didn't come.

And he didn't come.

... And he didn't come.

She started keeping careful track of every time his name was mentioned in the interstellar news, and in rumor, and _everywhere_. Fear crept up on her as it never had before; she was convinced that something awful was going to happen.

Which, of course, it eventually did.

°

Richard B. Riddick opened his eyes and only just managed to turn his head enough that he could blearily survey his surroundings. He was in a locked cell, which wasn't a particularly new experience for him, and he was exhausted, which wasn't anything new either. But he was also injured to the point of being barely able to move, which would have been impossibly anyway as he was chained to the stone floor, and _that was_.

He groaned, realizing belatedly that he didn't have his goggles and his eyes were exposed to the full force of the light in the room, which was, actually-- none. Hm. That probably wouldn't last very long, given all of the high-intensity lamps he saw positioned around the room.

He let his head fall back to where it had been before, closing his eyes. Listening to the blood pound through the veins in his temples, he tried to remember where he was and how he'd gotten here. Minutes passed, what could have been hours, and he could come up with nothing. The last thing he could remember was preparing to land on Degadron 6 and feeling as if there were something about to go totally, catastrophically wrong.

Which, of course, it obviously had.

°

"Uh-oh," she heard, and glanced over at the young man who'd been diligently scrolling the news. His eyes met hers, and they were filled with apprehension. His brow was furrowed.

Her heart stopped for a moment. "What is it?" she demanded urgently, crossing the room as she spoke.

"It's Riddick," he answered, unnecessarily, because he'd been searching for any mention of the escaped convict, and wouldn't have stopped unless he'd found one. "He's been captured."

"Again," she snorted contemptuously. Whether the unpleasant emotion was directed at Riddick or the people who'd captured him, was not entirely clear, unless you knew her.

"They're sending him to the quadruple max slam, this time," said the young man, because it was important.

Her forehead creased as she frowned. "That's not going to be good."

There was a pause before the young man added, almost reluctantly, "And he's hurt."

She froze.

He sighed, apprehensively. "He's hurt _bad_, they say," he explained, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

"Fuck," she swore, her hands clenching into fists. She looked as if she wanted to hit something.

He pushed the holo vid projector toward her.

"There's a picture," he whispered. She leaned closer, focusing on the small, suspiciously grainy image, and blanched.

"FUCK."

The young man eyed her warily. "What're we gonna do?"

"What the hell do you think we're gonna do?" she snarled, the expression on her face making it clear that she was already thinking furiously quickly. "Tell the others to pack, then take Caro and Shaz down to the spaceport."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, already logging off the news feed and shutting down the holo vid, slipping it deftly into its case.

She was pacing, hunched over, lips pursed. A moment later she declared, "It's a two week flight to Quantos Two. Prep the ship; I want us ready to get off this rock _yesterday_. Understand?"

"Perfectly." The man was on his feet, sprinting out of the room practically before the word left his mouth. "Shaz! Caro!"

She straightened. Her eyes, directed at the wall on the far side of the room, were unfocused. "As for me... I'm going to go say goodbye to Imam."

°

He heard the bars of his cell rattling, the door opening, before he was fully awake. It was probably the guards again, come once more to beat him into continued submission, so he kept his eyes closed and tried to go back to sleep.

The one pleasant thing he could say about the guards at Quantos Detention Facility (such a godawful, sanitary name for a slam) was that they were so bloody inefficient when it came to roughing up their prisoners that he could sleep through it. The beatings were almost like receiving a massage with large metal poles, actually. Not bad, if you went for that sort of thing.

Suddenly, the manacles holding his limbs to the floor unlocked and snapped open, freeing him.

And then he heard the voice.

"Get up, Riddick."

He recognized it immediately, but it took him a moment to react.

His eyes flew open, exhaustion be damned, and he stared at the figure -- figures -- in the doorway of his cell. There were two of them, both dressed entirely in detail-concealing black jumpsuits, both wearing masks and helmets. The female one, the one that had to be her, was standing just to the left of the cell door, holding a massive gun pointed down the hallway. The other was either male or the most truly androgynous person he'd ever run into.

Riddick closed his eyes for a moment, but the figures hadn't gone away when he opened them again.

Clearly, he was dreaming.

"The fuck'd they do to him?" demanded the male figure, entering the cell and surveying him. A light flashed in his eyes, and he growled, causing the unknown man to immediately switch his beam to the ceiling. "Ah, sorry."

Riddick grunted. It was all he could manage.

"I said, get _up_, Riddick," she snarled again, still not facing him. The gun in her hands was tracking back and forth slowly, presumably to keep someone away from the cell, probably the guards.

He grunted again.

A low chuckle reached Riddick's ears, and the stranger grabbed his shoulders, pulling until he reached a sitting position. "Up you get, pops," said the stranger, throwing one of Riddick's arms across his shoulders and heaving the older man up to stand, leaning heavily against the stranger. He felt something being put on his head, and was immensely relieved when tinted plexiglas was put over his eyes and he realized that it was only his goggles.

Then he was being dragged out of the cell.

Riddick had been surprised, on reaching something resembling his feet, at how large the younger man was. He was even more surprised as it slowly became apparent that most of that size was muscle. _Christ_, he thought, while they hurried down the hall to the stairs, _this guy's almost as big as me_.

She was following, Riddick could hear her close behind them, could smell her concern (obviously for him) and excitement. There was no fear, not from either of the people rushing him through the prison to the main level. He wanted to scream at her that she shouldn't be here. It was astonishing; the last thing he would have expected was for her to rescue him, and now that she had, he could only be angry that she'd put herself in danger.

Riddick's cell had been on the bottom floor of the slam, four stories underground, and just the thought of going up that many flights of stairs to get to ground level made all his leg muscles scream. After the first dozen steps, he was very glad for the young man holding him up -- even if the guy couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Shit, you weigh a ton, pops," the stranger was mumbling behind his helmet, his voice so low that Riddick wouldn't have caught it at all except for his exceptional, animalistic hearing.

Deliberately, Riddick started to drag his feet.

He appreciated being rescued but, hey, if they weren't going to be gracious about it, neither was he.

"Damn it, Riddick, _move_," she cried, somehow having passed them on the narrow staircase without him noticing. The next thing he knew they were in another hallway, and she was barreling them toward and through the main entrance.

There was a ship waiting for them on the launch pad right outside the doors. It was a tiny thing, probably couldn't do much more than leave the atmosphere -- how the hell were they hoping to get anywhere in that thing? The hatch was already open and they dragged him in; he heard the hatch closing barely a moment after they entered, as the female with the gun spun around and punched in a code to seal it.

"Go!" someone yelled. The sound was altogether too close to Riddick's ear, sounding almost as loud as the engines that were roaring suddenly. A moment later, Riddick felt the unmistakable vertigo of a hasty takeoff, and focused quickly on the interior of the skiff to avoid thinking about the way his insides were twisting around each other.

Two other black-clad people were in the skiff with them, occupying the pilot and copilot chairs -- the only seats in the skiff, really -- but Riddick judged them to not really be that important, mostly because of the amount of pain this rather rocky flight was causing in his injured body. So he stared past them, out the cockpit window, as they rocket toward the stars.

Before he knew it they were through the atmosphere and heading straight for what was either an asteroid or-- no, it was a ship, in orbit around that hellish little planet for some reason, and they were definitely headed straight for it. They'd obviously known it was there...

He stared at it a bit more.

It was a big ship, especially by Riddick's standards, and he was unreasonably startled to realize that it was _their_ ship. Surely a craft that big couldn't be flown by only four people, could it? Ships of that class required at least a crew of five, he was sure.

The rear airlock door opened as they approached it. The skiff's landing inside was _almost_ smooth, but the _almost_ was rough enough for Riddick to let out a pained, irritated moan. Her hand went to the back of his neck, stroking soothingly, and the sound died in his throat, as the airlock doors closed and sealed. There was a whirring noise from outside; the hold was filling with breathable air.

The man steered Riddick out of the skiff practically as soon as the all-clear light came on and the hatch door opened. The huge hold they entered was dark, which suited Riddick just find, but noisy, which didn't.

"Caro! Shaz!" screamed the man supporting him. "Get us out of here!"

It seemed a hundred voices relayed this message, before it died out and the big ship's big engines kicked them faster toward whatever destination was so important to these people; or maybe they just really wanted to get away from Quantos Two. Riddick certainly didn't blame them if that was the case.

God, he was tired... He slumped further down the stranger's side, the last of his energy leaving him in a rush, as he realized what this all really meant.

He was free, again.

Suddenly she was there, under his other arm, pulling him back to his feet, speaking angrily. "Come on, Riddick, stand up, walk, just a bit further. Come on. Don't you fucking dare give out yet. Come on."

"Move that ass, pops," added the man who was doing most of Riddick's upwardly-mobile work for him. There was a hint of morbid amusement in his voice.

Riddick wanted to remain conscious, just for the pleasure of planting a fist in the face of that irritating voice, but he couldn't do it. He'd spent three weeks in a forced state of mental and physical exhaustion, and he just couldn't do it anymore. His eyes closed and he slipped into an odd sort of waking dream. He was present as she and the stranger half-dragged, half-carried him through the airlock into a narrow hall lined with doors, and yet he wasn't. He could still feel and hear everything going on around him, and yet he couldn't.

Riddick had gone limp.

"I swear to god, Zeke, that med-bay better be prepped, or you'll be confined to your bunk for the rest of your natural life," she muttered, anxiously. Riddick felt her chest heave with exertion as she helped manhandle a person twice her size along a space meant for only one person to travel at a time.

"Don't worry," said the man supporting Riddick's right side, even though worrying was obviously what he was busy doing, judging by the scent of concern wafting off of him. Strange. Why would a stranger be _concerned_ about him? Riddick was fairly certain that had never happened before. Not since T2... and Jack...

They squeezed through a door, and whatever room they were in flooded with lights.

"Oh, thank the fuck," she said, obviously relieved, and Riddick was pulled onto a med table.

He grunted in pain.

"Shh," she soothed, her hand caressing his head, despite the blood and filth mingling with the stubble growing there. Her voice was closer now, her breath rushing past his ear, and full of love. "We'll get you fixed up, Big Evil. You're safe now. Jack's here."

And, finally, Richard B. Riddick drifted away.


	2. Chapter One

**Disclaimer:** See Prologue.

**Fic/Chapter Warnings:** Disregards TCoR, DF, and... basically all canon except most of PB, so _rather_ AU. Language. Some mild sexual content in this chapter. If any of these things bother you, don't read.

**Author's Notes:** Just a reminder, but yes, this fic is still being written strictly for fun. It is not meant to be taken seriously. The characters are not, necessarily, meant to remain IC, if I happen decide that switching them OOC would serve my amusement better. I am writing it for **fun**. Though, that doesn't mean I don't hope other people will like it, because I do.

Do please review and tell me what you think!

**o.o.o.o**

_Chapter One_

When Riddick woke he was on a cot, but not in the medbay he remembered last. This room was smaller, looked like some kind of crew cabin. The walls were bare, nothing but a cabinet built into the opposite wall and a panel near the door for sealing the room and adjusting the lights -- which were currently on low, thankfully, because even though he had his goggles, Riddick reckoned his eyes were still pretty sensitive after all that time in his super-bright Quantos cell.

A small, young voice to his left whispering "He's awake!" recalled Riddick's attention to his position. He turned his head, surprised he could move at all. He felt much better, not great but much better; someone had done a helluva job fixing him up.

Kneeling next to his cot were two kids, probably about eight years old, with practically identical faces that looked somehow familiar to him. He hadn't seen them in his first survey of the room; they must have been crouched even lower on the floor then.

What in fuck's name were kids doing on a ship like this? A ship with _him_ on it?

"Hullo," said the one with the long hair hanging in her face. She was grinning at him, not at all shyly.

Grinning at him? Did these kids not know who he was?

The other kid, hair sticking up at odd angles from his head, nudged his sister quickly, and for second Riddick thought he was going to warn her about him. But instead the kid hissed, "Go get Mom," and continued to stare at Riddick eagerly.

"No," the girl said, not bothering to keep her voice down. The grin on her face didn't diminish in the slightest.

"Mom said to get her when he woke up," the boy snapped.

"You go. I want to stay here with him," she insisted, sounding a bit annoyed now.

The boy's jaw set stubbornly. "I saw he was awake first."

The girl turned to glare at her brother, and her mouth opened, probably to explain to him how stupid he was being, but Riddick cut them off by clearing his throat.

"What's your name, kid?" he asked, making sure they both knew he was addressing the girl. Her face brightened again.

"Jo Badd," she said promptly, proudly straightening her back a little.

So, they were Jack's kids. Riddick turned his face to the boy, wordlessly prompting him to answer.

"Joe Ri--Badd," he stated, stumbling before his last name. Probably mostly because his sister had elbowed him in the ribs.

Riddick's head hurt.

"Everybody calls me Joy," Jo amended, reluctantly.

"And me Joey," added Joe, helpfully.

"But our names are really Jo and Joe."

"You're making his head hurt," said a voice from the doorway, and Riddick glanced over, only to see that a young man was currently lounging against the door frame, grinning insolently. It was a rather annoying expression, actually. And then the man winked, which was even more annoying. "Nice to see you're awake, pops."

It had to be the man who'd helped drag him out of Quantos.

Without realizing he was doing it, Riddick growled low in his throat. The sound was pained as much as it was threatening, but the young twins didn't seem to notice quite that much, because as soon as they heard it they jumped back with startled little squeals.

Riddick almost felt bad about frightening them.

Which was, really, a new experience for him.

He was distracted from his possible guilt when he realized that the man at the door was far from being cowed. In fact, he was chuckling softly. "Scary, pops. That the best you got?"

"Like to see you do better after getting the fuck beat out of you every day for a month," snarled Riddick. The twins twittered nervously, and he realized that maybe he shouldn't have been so blunt... Again with the unfamiliar potential shame thing.

"It wasn't a month," retorted the other man calmly, walking over and putting a hand on the little girl's shoulder. "It was three weeks, at most."

"You're gonna talk details? To _me_?"

For a moment, Riddick and his question were ignored by the man. He crouched down and whispered to the twins, who nodded and reluctantly left the room. Then he turned back to face the convict on the bunk, and acknowledge what the older man had said.

"Yeah, I'm gonna talk details to you," he murmured, not rising from his crouch. "That's why I'm fucking in here. I mean, _don't_ you want to know how we got you out?"

"I was sort of thinkin' it only mattered that I _am_ out, but go ahead, please your fuckin' self."

"Yeah, you are out, aren't you?" agreed the stranger, smirking now. The self-satisfaction on his face wasn't directed at Riddick this time, and any questions the older man might have had about what he was thinking were answered the next moment, because the young guy kept right on talking. Never saying anything that really told Riddick much, but definitely talking about how much he'd enjoyed his little foray into jail-breaking.

"They never thought they'd have to guard against a rescue attempt from outside. Especially not one for _you_, Big Evil," said the young man, sounding curiously pleased, when Riddick considered that the guy had no reason to have suspected otherwise. "Bet they figured you didn't have any friends willing to risk their ass for you."

That sort of rankled Riddick's pride, despite how true it might or might not have been. "Who the fuck are you, anyway?" he demanded.

The man smirked. "M' name's Ricky Badd."

Riddick's eyes widened behind his goggles. This guy was related to Jack? He hadn't expected that. Though, now that he thought about it, he probably should have. The other two were Jack's kids, why shouldn't this guy be?

Maybe because he looked to be at least eighteen, which was just too fucking much to believe, since Jack was only about thirty.

"Where's your mother?" he demanded, instead of saying what he was really thinking.

Grinning a little wolfishly, as if he were amused by the bluntness of the question, Ricky replied, "She's taking a shower."

Riddick rolled his eyes expressively. "Right," he muttered.

"Joy and Joey should be waiting for her to get out," continued Ricky, ignoring Riddick's bad attitude. "As soon as she's done, they'll let her know."

"Let her know what, precisely?"

Ricky looked surprised for a moment and then said, in a tone that suggested he didn't think very highly of Riddick for needing to ask at all, "That you're awake. She'll want to know."

"Yes, I imagine she will," Riddick said tersely, feeling for the first time that the younger man had a right to his derisive tone. He _should_ have known that, it was the obvious answer, and if he hadn't been so worn out, he would have realized that before he spoke.

A strange expression crossed Ricky's face, and after a moment of what appeared to be hesitation, he blurted, "She's missed you, Riddick."

An uncomfortable clawing started in Riddick's chest, side by side with a surprising rush of what was either relief or happiness. Neither were emotions that he thought he really needed, given the circumstances. Bad enough that the first time she'd seen him in years he'd been bloody and chained to the floor of a prison cell, he didn't need to go making himself look even weaker. Besides, why should hearing the words make him feel anything at all? He'd always known, somewhere, that Jack would and did miss him.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, well--"

"Riddick!"

Jack had arrived.

She was standing in the narrow doorway, her eyes bright and anxious. But there was a half-smile on her face, and to Riddick's perceptive nose, she positively reeked of excitement. That, and the two small sets of shining, interested eyes peering at him from either side of her, made him want to grin.

"Jack," he murmured, hoping she'd come the rest of the way into the room. He wanted to talk to her. How long had it been since he'd just _talked_ to her? Years, certainly, years and years. And now all he wanted was to hear her voice, moving gently through the air and forcing all his smiles out into the open, the way it had so long ago, during the time they'd spent together in New Mecca.

"Riddick," she repeated, more happily, as her half-smile turned into a grin. She took a few steps closer, but then stopped, as she seemed to realize that Ricky was in the room, too.

"Mother," he greeted her cheerfully. He was smirking as if he had a secret that he didn't feel like sharing with the rest of the world. Riddick wondered if she found the expression as annoying as he did.

"Ricky," she began, with a tiny, faintly disapproving frown that Riddick wondered at.

"Yes?" he replied, even more brightly, and Riddick realized that the cheery attitude was _intended_ to aggravate and annoy, even when used on Jack. The knowledge irritated him, more than the tone, even though it was the sort of thing he did all the time.

Riddick decided that someone oughta tell the little bastard to show his mother a bit more respect. Maybe he'd get around to it, if he was here with them long enough. Nobody should treat Jack like that.

Jack was speaking, calmly, as if she were so used to her son's behavior that she didn't really even notice it any more. "Go tell Shazza she can set us back to autopilot now, we've plenty of room to drift, and then help Carolyn make sure everyone else gets fed."

The young man nodded, cast Riddick a mild "See ya, pops," and disappeared out of the room. The twins were still hovering in the doorway, watching their mother with wide, wide eyes.

"Joes?" Jack prompted, bluntly. She arched one eyebrow in a mother's look of expectant inquiry.

"Can we come in?" they asked hesitantly, Joe starting the sentence and Jo finishing it. They had turned their eager look from Jack to Riddick, and were now staring at him almost worshipfully.

Riddick thought his heart might have stopped for a moment when he recognized that expression. It reminded him so much of Jack's, the first time he'd seen her.

Abruptly, Jack looked even more concerned. "Uh," she mumbled, casting a quick, nervous glance to Riddick, "I don't think so. Not right now."

"Aw, Mommy," whined Joe, the corners of his mouth turning down dramatically, as his sister began to glare. "Please?"

Riddick was watching with greater curiosity now, and his attention seemed to be distressing Jack even more.

"No," she insisted quickly, darting another glance at him. "It's-- it's dinner time."

"But we aren't hungry!" Jo protested, looking very mutinous. Joe, beside her, was nodding along eagerly. "We want to come in."

"Joes," Jack began, desperately, but her voice died and her face twisted uncertainly. Her eyes darted over to Riddick, it was him they wanted to stay for after all, and this time stayed fixed on him. Her expression was unmistakably pleading.

So, she was leaving up to him to send them away, then?

All right.

"Mommy needs to talk to daddy right now, kids," said Riddick, carefully watching Jack's reaction to the words. He hadn't known quite why he said them, but they seemed true enough after they left his mouth. It made sense, after all, that he would be their father. Why would she have brought them if he wasn't? "You can come back later."

Jack had frozen, looking at the floor, and he couldn't tell if she was angry or apprehensive.

The kids, on the other hand, had positively lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah," he assured them, somewhat wearily.

Joe jumped in the air and whooped excitedly, while his sister squealed and launched herself back across the room to the cot. "Oh, Daddy!" she gasped, flinging herself on his chest and wrapping her little arms as far around him as she could. "Thank you!"

... Well, that confirmed _that_ theory. Riddick winced.

Jack saw it, misinterpreting it to mean Jo was hurting his still tender body, and gently pried her away. "Right, Joy, get lost. You heard Daddy."

But Jo wiggled out of her grasp and leaned in to plant a sloppy kiss on Riddick's cheek. "Thank you," she said again, then darted past her brother and out of the room. Joe, still crowing, followed her. No doubt they had plans of spreading this wonderful news to the 'others.'

Riddick looked at Jack. Her face was unreadable, even for him. She walked over to the door and pressed a button to close it, then another to lock it. The hiss of metal was the only sound in the room, and when it faded away there was an awkward silence. She stayed there by the door, her back to him.

"Jack," he said, his voice coming out rougher and quieter than he meant it to.

"Riddick," she replied, turning but not moving any closer. She shivered slightly, though the air in the room was more than warm.

She was scared.

"Come here, woman," he ordered. He would have gone to her, but he just couldn't.

She came.

"Glad to see me?" asked Jack, kneeling beside him, in exactly the same place her children had. Her eyes, though he couldn't make out the color, were shining brightly, and he could smell the salt in the tears she was close to shedding.

"Glad?" he scoffed, wishing for the life of him that he had the energy to at least sit up. "Fuck, Jack, I'd be dancin' a damn jig if I could get my ass off this damn bunk."

"That's my Riddick," she murmured, the fingertips of one hand brushing across his cheek.

From somewhere he found the ability to lift his arm. Reaching up, he tangled his fingers in the hair at the base of her skull and tugged her down to where he could kiss her, hard.

She pulled her head away several minutes later; he could hear her heart beating faster, her breath coming shorter. Her hands had fisted in the fabric of the clean black shirt on his chest. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded. He didn't bother specifying what she should have told him, because they both already knew. He was talking about their kids.

Fuck. He had _kids_.

Jack shrugged, the side of her mouth twitching with a combination of humor and worry. "I tried to, Riddick, more than once. But you just--"

He pulled her back down, kissing her again.

"--yes, you did _that_," she said, breaking the kiss and licking her lips.

Well, that point seemed rather immaterial at the moment. Especially since he was fighting the urge to pull her back against him and not let her go, ever.

She licked her lips again.

Had he really been exhausted just a little while ago?

"How many?" he demanded this time, because it seemed like the sort of thing that he really ought to know.

Jack laughed shortly, a little wildly. "There's practically a kid here for every night we ever spent together, Riddick."

"Huh," muttered Riddick, taking a moment to try and remember on how many different occasions they'd slept together. There was the night before he'd left that first time, and... how many times had he gone back to visit?

She kept talking, interrupting his train of thought before he could finish it. "I'm not protesting the number of those nights, Riddick -- there weren't enough of them, actually -- so much as I'm pointing out the staggering level of fertility generated by them."

"It's an animal thing," he responded, mostly to have something to say, because he was still trying to remember how many times he'd visited her. The precise number was eluding him for some reason. "And you still haven't answered my question. How many?" Here he paused, and then, with an edge to his voice, "What do you mean, practically?"

_Damn it, how many times?_

"I have thirteen kids, Riddick," she whispered, not meeting his eyes, not even looking at them through his goggles, though there was aching tenderness in her eyes as she watched her hand move from his shirt to grip his fingers tightly.

_Ten_ came roaring into his head suddenly.

"... I only visited--" Riddick stopped, staring at her, daring her to finish the thought for him, and at the same time wishing he'd miscounted and he'd actually been to see her more than he thought he had...

... Except, she did, and he hadn't. "Ten times, yes."

Riddick's blood began to simmer, just a little. He didn't know why he was getting angry, really, since he _had_ left her, and he supposed that he technically he had no claim on her during those periods he'd been gone, but just the thought of Jack-- his Jack, with _someone else_--

"You haven't met either of the other sets of twins yet, Riddick," she declared, sounding slightly amused now. He focused on her again, and noticed that she was smiling, her eyes still tender.

"They--" he started, his throat still tight from the anger he'd been fighting.

"They're all yours, Riddick," Jack assured him. "Trust me."

Well. Now that he didn't have to worry about having been betrayed, he could concentrate on the fact that she'd said _thirteen_.

"Fuck," he breathed, disbelievingly. "That's a lotta kids. Especially for me."

"I know." And somehow, she sounded sad.

He was quiet for several minutes, and the silence in the room was an uncomfortable one. Finally she cleared her throat and murmured, her voice pained but surprisingly level, "You don't have to stay with us, you know. We don't expect you to."

His mouth opened, but he had no idea what he wanted to say. "I--"

"We'll take you somewhere, once you're healed. We'll drop you anywhere you want to go," she hurried to assure him. She was in such a rush to get everything she was thinking out that she barely stopped to breath. "It should only be a couple of weeks until you're all fixed up. Then you can leave and won't have to put up with them anymore."

"Jack, I really--" Riddick tried again, not liking the way her voice had started to tremble.

"Don't, Riddick," she snapped. Her voice was sharper than he remembered it being before. "Please, don't."

He bit his tongue to keep from speaking after she'd asked him not to. She was looking at their clasped hands rather than his face, and he supposed he couldn't blame her.

"All I ask is that while you're still here, you treat them kindly. You don't have to be particularly nice to them, you don't have to like them, you don't have to spend any time with them that you don't want to -- but you are their father, Riddick," she said, ending on a broken little whisper. "Please, don't be cruel."

Riddick remained silent, thinking this over. He really had no experience with children, no idea how to treat them, how to act. Could he really spend several weeks with a whole shipful of them -- _his_ kids, of all the unbelievable things -- and not be cruel, even if it did turn out to be unintentional?

Apparently he'd been silent for too long, because beside him he heard Jack take a deep, shuddering breath and let it out in a rush that sounded distressingly like a suppressed sob. Her fingers loosened around his and started to withdraw, as she muttered quickly, "Or-- I suppose I'll just ask them to stay away. You'll need peace and quiet to recover, anyway, they'll understand that."


End file.
